And This And This And This, And It Means Nothing!
by Sphynxia
Summary: This story is being re-written. Fyi.
1. I Dr Atelier

Uh, yeah

_Uh, yeah. I wanted to write a story involving mad people for a long time, and dear Cillian Murphy just happened to pop in my way at the road to success with his brilliant blue eyes and badass acting. I just had to do it. So don't blame me._

**Disclaimer: As much as I'd like to own Dr. Jonathan Crane, he's of the DC Comics and Chris Nolan (The Cillian Version). But I DO own my dear OC Lisbourne, and any other character that I'll mention as mine in he following chapters, so NO STEALING!!**

_Now, on with the story._

The look that the psychiatrist gave me was a look that I'd never forget.

It was almost funny, how he had entered in and found me. Imagine, entering in a room, so white that it could pluck your eyes out, and finding an insane looking woman, lighted by the strong rays of sunlight coming from the wide window, deliriously drawing something.

On the wall.

And looking around, seeing that the bright, white walls are actually covered with more drawings than you had seen in your life at once. The psychiatrist's expression was the one you'd have when you saw something like that.  
The _'Are you insane?'_ look.  
But he shouldn't have found it weird, by being a mad woman's shrink for over three months now, in an asylum. He should have been used to it by now. So I turned around and gave him the same look.

"Hello, Dr. Atelier." I saluted the young man, waving a hand at him, and then turning my attention back to my newest masterpiece. Something I liked to call _'The Breakdown of a Scarecrow'_.

"Hi, Christine," Atelier responded, entering in the room, signaling the two guards to wait outside, and examining the walls.

"Dr. Atelier, how many times I have to remind you that the name I use is Lisbourne?" I said, finishing the sketchy outline of the Scarecrow, now passing to the details.

"But just yesterday you were Christine." He questioned me, pulling a chair a feet away from me and sitting down, amused.

"Christine is just a cage that my parents tucked me in," I replied, speeding up my drawing rate now. "Christine's not here today. That's why I was given more than one name." I tilted my head. "To have a more colorful personality."

"Hmm… Colorful…I like that expression." Atelier stated, smiling. He leaned forward to look at the wall I was working on. "You've added lots of new drawings since our last meeting."

"Yeah, I've been inspired these days." I responded, adding a worn hat on the still eyeless straw head. "It's not like I have better things to do, anyway."

"That, you're right." He said, getting up. Walking towards me, he crouched where I was crouched. He examined the drawing closely. "What do you call this one?"

"The Breakdown of a Scarecrow," I replied staring at his ocean colored eyes, waiting for his respond. I was always fond of staring at his eyes; they reminded me of the Mediterranean Sea I loved so much in my childhood.

"That's interesting." He sat on the floor. "May I ask you, Lisbourne, why have you drawn this all of a sudden?" He asked, shaking his head to clear his eyes from the tufts of blonde swiftly falling on his eyes.

"I don't know, it just came to me." I replied, suddenly confused. "I'm an artist, why shouldn't I draw something like this?" I stated, tucking the charcoal pencil behind my ear. Then I sat on the floor as well, turning towards him, cross-legged. The doctor was always trying to discover something from my actions, poor thing. I suddenly wondered what he had found this time.

"Usually you draw more complex things, like 'the Battle of a Madman' over at that wall." He replied, pointing at a drawing at the opposite wall, marvelously done and sketched, inspired by a work of Leonardo da Vinci, a perfect masterpiece in the doctor's eyes but a mere, unfinished piece of sketch in my insane eyes.

"Oh, you mean like that." I raised my eyebrows and nodded, showing that I finally understood. "Since the asylum isn't providing me with painting supplies that I need, and since I didn't have time to gather all of my supplies while I was being dragged away, I can't finish my 'complex' works, as you refer to them." I explained, picking my charcoal pencil again. "So, I decided to move on to more 'simple' drawings." I continued my work from the scarecrow's eyes.

"And another thing, why a Scarecrow?" Atelier asked, staring at my wild, lime green eyes gleaming with pure insanity. I chuckled.

"Why? Just because." I said, smiling still. The shrink continued staring at me, patiently waiting for a proper answer. A minute or two passed in silence, me drawing, the doctor still waiting.

"Alright, then." I said. "Since you're not going to leave me alone in peace, I might as well tell you why." I passed to the vest of the scarecrow. "I've always pitied the scarecrows, you see. They make me laugh." The vest was finished by the time I had said it. I started on the details of the shirt. "You know, they place a scarecrow in the middle of the field, to scare away the crows. And it works, but for a few days." My smile grew wider. "Soon the crows realize that something's wrong, _'a human has to move, right? Why isn't this one moving?'_ Then they take turns, slowly flying over the scarecrow, and finally settle on him. They realize it's a mere stuffed sack. They bomb-dive it, rip it, even sometimes build nests on it." I started drawing a crow. "Crows are not stupid, you know."

Atelier chuckled. "You have a different perspective over anything." He said. "I'm going to miss your unique qualities." I raised an eyebrow.

"Missing? Where are you going?"

"That was the real reason I came here today. To tell you that you're going to be transferred to a different asylum." He sighed. "And I'm not going to be your psychiatrist anymore."

"But Doc, you can't leave me." I protested, suddenly hugging him tightly. Here in this madhouse, Atelier was the only strand holding me to clear consciousness. Him, and my lack of sanity.

"I'm sorry, but they don't think that this asylum is enough to treat you anymore." He said, patting my head. Then he got up, encouraging me to get up as well. "Come on, be the big girl you always are." He said, trying to get me out of my suddenly infant state.

"Alright." I said, sniffing, then my attitude changing suddenly. "It's the seventh time they changed something anyway." Atelier was my seventh doctor. Before him, I've had five doctors in this asylum and two more at the first asylum I was in.

"Goodbye, then." The psychiatrist said, walking over to the door. "I'll see you tomorrow, when you're being transferred." He said.

"I'll pack my things, then." I said, suddenly starting to rip out the white wallpaper of the room carefully. As a reply to the weird look he gave me, I said, "I didn't draw them on the walls for a stupid reason." I continued ripping. "Geez, and they call me crazy."

He chuckled and exited the room. Little did I know, the reason of my sudden transfer was my relationship with the doctor. They had decided that our relation was going beyond the patient-doctor relationship, and since my problem was complex and he was the best in the asylum, they had decided to transfer me to another asylum that had a much better doctor than Atelier. One that had more than Atelier's qualities _and _wouldn't carry the patient-doctor relationship further.

That asylum just happened to be the Arkham Asylum and the doctor happened to be Dr. Jonathan Crane. Purely coincidental. An asylum and a man I knew nothing of.

Or, so I thought.


	2. II The Arkham

_Before I start, I'd like to mention something; the POV of the story changes from time to time. Sometimes it's from the POV of Jonathan, sometimes Lisbourne, and sometimes just third person. I'll note the __POV at the beginning of every section, so you won't have to bother yourselves about that._

_Just thought I would mention._

**Disclaimer: I don't ow****n Jonathan Crane or the Arkham Asylum, but I own Lisbourne, Atelier, and any other character that I'll mention, yada yada, so on and so forth, you know the drill. In addition, the Weyland surname ALSO isn't my creation; I'm too fond of that name from the Aliens and AvP series. **

**Please leave your review after you read!  
Constructive critism would be good, too. :D**

_On with the story._

* * *

**Crane's POV**** (3****rd**** person)**

His new patient was the most interesting one he had in two years.

First, he had thought that the young woman would be a mere distraction in his experiments, but as he read through the file, he realized that a challenge was coming. The woman had had seven psychiatrists before him and changed asylums before. Her latest doctor had been Aiden Atelier, a school comrade of his. Quite a psychiatrist, really, but they had taken the girl from him because he had gotten tied with her emotionally.

What a stupid mistake to do. He had expected more from Atelier than this.

He chuckled as he closed the file, stuffed it into his black briefcase, then headed to the room that the patient would be taken when she arrived.

* * *

**Lisbourne's POV (3****rd**** person)**

The room was as white as her old room, she could tell that.

But she knew that this wouldn't be her room. There was no bed to lie on, no chairs, no bathroom, and heck, not even a single window.

She guessed that she was kept here to meet her new doctor; Jonathan Crane. They had told his name to her, while she was being transferred. Nothing else. So she couldn't do anything other than playing a guessing game.

Was he blonde and charming, like the way Atelier was?

Or was he plump and short?

Maybe transgendered at heart?

Changing where she sat every five minutes, she had already started drawing her guesses, on whatever she found, with that infamous charcoal pencil o hers who she had tucked behind her ear before leaving.

* * *

**Crane's POV (3****rd**** person)**

When Jonathan Crane entered the room, he found the patient sitting on the table, drawing something on its surface, whispering to herself.

_"…but we shouldn't think that way, should we, now? No, we should not, Lisbourne. Thinking that way will just-" _She raised her head, suddenly aware of his presence.

"Why, hello, you must be Doctor Crane." She said, laughing. She swayed like she was drunk, then her attitude changed suddenly. She stopped swaying, and tucked the pencil behind her ear.

Crane shot a cold smile at her. "Hi, Ms. Weyland." He said, moving closer to the table. He pulled out one of the two chairs and sat on it.

Watching him, Lisbourne jumped down from the table and did the same. She crashed her elbows to the table and boldly stared at the doctor, trying to remember if she had drawn a guess like this on the table.

The man in front of her was good-looking and young, maybe a couple of years older than her. He had shabby, shining, ebony black hair, and the bluest eyes she had ever seen. Even brighter than Atelier's. _It was almost too blue._

Yes, now she remembered. She had drawn something like that. A few feet away, on the floor. But the man she drew was slightly bigger than the one residing right before her eyes, and she hadn't guessed the glasses. His suit was an expensive one, as she observed, a suit that her brother dearest would choose to wear. Black, elegant, yet strong looking.

And to complete all of that, his high cheekbones, his wide lips, and his nice face structure were things hard to miss.

Yep, God was showing off when he created the man.

If there was a God, that is. She had lost hope years ago.

In the minute of silence, Crane was actually doing the same thing as Lisbourne. He was scaling her, rating her, trying to connect the woman with what she'd caused. She was a medium sized, slim woman with all the curves in the right places. She had long, brown hair that almost reached to her knees, now wild and messy. She had a cat-like face structure, and a cunning, tricky, devious smile.

Every man who saw her would think of her as a beautiful, mind-twisting, rich business demon.

He couldn't possibly understand that the woman was mad…

_If_ he ignored her eyes.

Those almond-shaped, cat-like, lime green eyes. Gleaming with insanity, sharp with suspicion, and mesmerizing with the fact that they held not one bit of sanity in them.

The woman was clearly insane, and Crane absolutely loved it.

"So, Ms. Weyland—or should I call you Christine?" Crane asked suddenly, breaking the silence, and getting out her file from his briefcase. He opened it and fixed his gaze on her.

"Oh, non, Christine has gone for two days, now, I'm Victoria." Lisbourne responded quickly, her accent suddenly French.

Crane raised an eyebrow, looking at his file again. Oh yes, her full name. _Christine Lisbourne Victoria Weyland_. "Ah, alright, then. Victoria it is." He said, understandingly.

She looked at him, tilting her head. "So, Monsieur, we're here today so you can learn more about me, yes?" She asked, smiling.

"I know a lot about you, actually." Crane answered as he gestured the file. He closed it and patted on it meaningfully.

"So, tell me, what do you know about me, exactly?" Lisbourne, now preferring to be called Victoria demanded, leaning on her hands.

"Hmm…Let's see..." He opened the file, gazing through it. "I know that you've been diagnosed as insane a year and a half before, I know that you're the daughter of Marie Ivy Stephens and Charles Bishop Weyland, and you have a brother called Matthew who's now the CEO of the Weyland-Yutani Corp with Hiroshi Yutani…" He started on what he knew and what was in front of him.

She nodded mockingly through his little summary, biting her bottom lip, like she was approving of what he said. "Yes, yes, that's the stuff all of my other doctors knew." She reasoned, swirling her hand in a _'Pass all that' _way. She sighed. "Besides, I'd not call it insanity," she explained. _**"Those who danced were thought to be quite insane by those who could not hear the music."**_ She added, quoting Angela Monet.

"Reasonable…" Crane replied to his statement. He took one last look at the file, saw what she was diagnosed with, and closed it. "So, let's talk about your…problems."

"My problems?" She asked, tilting her head. "All insane people claim that they're normal, only non-crazy people admit that they are insane." She grinned, damping her lips with her tongue. She smiled playfully at Crane. "You guys call me insane; I claim that I'm normal." She shrugged. "You figure it out."

Crane held himself from grinning. He was almost enjoying it. He wondered what she'd think about his _experiments_ later when she started trusting him.

"Ok, then." Crane thought a word to start. "Your other doctors diagnosed you as having a _'Multiple Personality Disorder'_." He started. "And they noted that you're fully aware of your other personalities."

"That would be correct." Victoria answered. "And they can't find the reason why." She smiled. "Or how to treat me." She started tapping a fast beat on the table. "They've tried many things; hypnosis and all that shit." She shook her head. "But non, I don't want to be treated, and I know I don't need to be. So I just watch as they struggle, have my laughs."

"Oh, don't worry; my treatments are a hundred percent guarantied." Crane suddenly felt the urge to say. He smirked secretly. In his monotone, boring life, he had just realized a perfect specimen was put in front of him. No one would question him about _her._ He looked at his watch. "Oh, I guess this is the end of our time now. The guards will escort you to your room." He stated simply, regaining his cold attitude.

"Alright, Doc." Victoria said, getting up. Two guards entered in and escorted her out of the door, taking her to her new room.

Normally, Crane would have signed her into one of the _deeper _rooms, but her filthy rich brother had requested that she was taken good care of personally. And since the Weyland-Yutani Corp. had given their _support_ to the Asylum, they had no choice other than fulfilling his request. Matthew Adam Weyland, her brother. Ony _he_ could be a slight problem.


	3. III Satanophobia

_**A/N (ımportant): I had to add a few things more before I submitted it, and I'd like to tell you that even if I wrote this one, I'm not really sure if it's as good as the others or not. I'm having a block lately, but I hate to leave readers waiting.**__** So excuse my lameness. :D**_

_I'm writing this third chapter to you in the open sea, staring at the dolphins not far ahead, a __cooling breeze swiping my face and floating my hair, and I can't explain how relaxing it is for me. I've always loved the sea, and the waves that make most of the people nauseous. I don't know why I wrote it, I just felt the need to share. _

**Disclaimer****: I DO NOT own Scarecrow and Batman, Charles Bishop Weyland and the surname Weyland –with any business associated with it- in any possible way. But I DO own Lisbourne, her mother, and her brother, so on and so forth. You can guess the rest. :D**

**Reviews will be highly appreciated! :D**

_About the reviews I got:_

_Thank you, guys! I felt very special. :D I'm really glad you like my story and that I didn't spoil anything for you guys so far. I'm trying my ass out to create a twisted story that's different than the others._

_On with the story, luvvies!_

* * *

**Lisbourne's POV (1****st**** person)**

Days passed.

I don't know how many. Two, maybe three? Time seemed to be an insignificant matter in this white sea of madness that I was bound to be marooned in, probably forever. I didn't have a conscious over time; there were nights, days, afternoons, midnights, and twilights. There was nothing to keep me to go on, no talks, no watching, no nothing… I only had one chance; to observe, to look deeper to what I've observed, to _draw _what I observed. Other than that, I had no reason to live, really. Like they were trying to drive me crazy, like I wasn't already messed up as I was.

And since I didn't have Atelier to support me in this process, I found myself other companions.

Companions that already existed. Companions that I usually just thought as other beings.

Now they were my rescuers.

I spent my time with them, and only them, until the time came. The beginning of everything. The time for my first session with Dr. Crane.

And I was surprised to realize that I had been waiting it impatiently all along.

Well, not exactly me. My friends. But, oh well, didn't they think that they all were the same person?

As they took me to the room, I kept silent. As I waited for him to come, I kept silent. Even as he entered in, he found me doing nothing, and I kept silent.

* * *

**Crane's POV (3****rd**** person)**

The first thing he noticed when he entered was that there was something wrong with her.

She wasn't doing anything, just quietly sitting at the chair she was supposed to. No witty comments, no greeting, no drawing. Bewildered, he walked inside, and sat in front of her.

She just stared at him. Nothing else. Well, this was beyond wrong.

He shrugged, and placed his briefcase on the table in front of him as usual. He opened it, getting some papers out. As he observed through the corner of his eye, he could see that with every one of his sudden movements, Lisbourne was wincing. In the only two days she had been in the asylum, this new behaviour wasn't observed.

"Lisbourne? Is something wrong?" was the first thing he could form as a sentence.

The girl turned her eyes to him sharply. They weren't the sharp eyes that he had seen two days ago. They were scared, and full with bafflement.

"Lisbourne?" She answered with the same question. Her voice was soft and trembling. She tilted her head. "Oh, you must be Mr. Crane." She managed to form a smile. "The others told me about you. You seem like a good man."

"Oh." Crane had just understood. He was getting slower on these things. A stupid mistake, he told himself. Note that one down. "And you are…?" He asked, still keeping the emotionless, cold face he always got around patients.

"I'm Marie Rosalie." She nodded politely, almost a greeting. "But you may call me Rosalie, sir."

Crane raised an eyebrow inwardly. It seemed that Lisbourne had more than just the three personalities—Victoria, Lisbourne and Christine—that they had observed. It would take a respectable time of his attention to discover every bit of her personalities. Immediately he started to wonder what had kicked this one to surpass others. She had remembered a past fear, maybe?

"So, Rosalie, I guess you'll be my patient today." Crane said. It wasn't a guess or a question, just a statement.

"I reckon, sir." Rosalie answered, her eyes calm, but a tint of worry still residing in her. She shifted on her chair slightly, her hands folded politely.

Crane took a pen out of his briefcase, and started to take a few notes. While righting, he glanced at Rosalie from time to time. She was waiting patiently for him to finish. He put down the pen and stared at her eyes.

"So, Rosalie, today's session is about fear."

"Fear?" Rosalie asked. "Don't get me wrong, sir, but I'm not sure how knowing my fears will help my problems." She stated, raising her eyebrows.

Crane nodded to himself. Just yesterday, when she was Victoria, she was accusing that she was perfectly fine. But today, Rosalie was fully accepting her problems.

"Your fears may help us understand its roots." Crane explained. "We may even be able to treat your fears while we're at it." He assured her. As far as he had seen, Rosalie was supposed to be a shy, polite girl who was scared to trust anybody.

"Oh, then," Rosalie reasoned, nodding once again. She looked at him innocently, her expression unreadable. She was starting to get on his nerves. What had happened to the witty woman he had met yesterday?

Crane shook his head inwardly. He was making a mistake, craving for the woman's madness… If the reality had always been like what he wanted, his job would've been much easier.

"So, my fears…" She started suddenly, startling Crane. "Satanophobia, I guess." She said. She was fiddling with her fingers.

"Satanophobia?" Crane asked. The first thought that had popped into his head was that this personality had to be religious of some sort. If he added the phobia to her behaviour and made a little guess himself…Wait, how had she known the name?

"How do you know its name?" He wondered, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, my father made me study human psychology for two years, sir." Rosalie explained, a timid smile plastered on her face. "Then, somehow, I went back to studying art."

Crane nodded, constructing his thoughts. While he was thinking, he noticed that Rosalie was getting up.

"Rosalie? Is something wrong?" He sighed. He felt like he was going to use that sentence over and over again.

For a reply, Rosalie laughed. First she had started as a polite, low giggle, but it soon started getting louder, and suddenly she started laughing. Something was different in her voice.

"You use that sentence a lot today." She said. Crane immediately understood. He was getting used to it. There were yet other personalities he had yet to meet.

"Let me guess. Lisbourne." Crane stated. He waited for her laughter to die and for her to finally answer.

"Bulls eye." She looked at his with curiosity, tilting her head. She sat in front of Crane, crashed her elbows on the table, and supported her chin with her hands, just like the way she had done when they met.

"You know, this is the first time we're meeting." Crane reminded her, his face straight as a stone, observing her.

"I know." Lisbourne replied. "And I'm not disappointed." She smirked, looking into his eyes. "I expected you to be someone…different."

"How, exactly?" Crane asked, deciding to go along. He wondered what she would say.

"Well, someone less…Straightforward." She answered. "You're nothing like my other shrinks. And I've had lots, I assure you." She chuckled, as if she was remembering all of them. "By the way, only Rosalie fears the Satan."

"And you don't?" Crane asked, interested. This was getting better.

"I can't fear what I deny its existence." She explained, shrugging. "Even if I accepted, I'd pity him. He's like the scarecrows." She laughed again.

"Scarecrows?" Crane suddenly got excited. "Why the scarecrows?"

"Oh, haven't the others told you?" Lisbourne was surprised. And somewhat amused. Maybe because she was the first one to be telling him. "I utterly _pity _the scarecrows."


	4. IV Scarecrow

_The question that **Nothing is What it Seems** asked about Lisbourne got me thinking; I never told you how Lisbourne and her other personalities knew __each other. And since I wasn't going to explain it fully in the story, I'll tell what's needed here:_

_**When she was first being treated, she didn't know anything and refused treatment –hypnosis and stuff-, and soon they had to tell her and gain her trust somehow. (If you watched the 2007 remake of "Sybil", you can see that I'm inspired by **__**it : D) But unlike other people who would deny it and do everything to be well again, weirdly, she fully accepted the others, even somehow started to communicate with them. (Bare with me).**_

_So there you have it. :D I hope things are cleared now._

**Disclaimer: I don't own Jonathan Crane, Batman and the surname Weyland. But I do own Lisbourne, her other personalities, and any other character that you can guess. You know the rest.**

_Story, luvvies. :D_

* * *

**Lisbourne's POV (1****st**** person)**

I don't know exactly how, but my last sentence had caught him off guard.

He was staring at me, wide eyed. Not saying anything. Not asking me why, like Atelier had done. Not mocking my statement, like the problematic shrink I had before Atelier. Not doing _anything._ I raised my eyebrows, surprised for the first time. What was his bloody problem? Besides, it was the first time I –or the others, as they whispered silently in my ear- had seen an expression on his ice cold, frighteningly calm face.

After a minute of silence, he snapped out of his trance.

He cleared his throat, and regained his calm expression. "May I ask you, why?" He asked.

Just as I thought. I was almost starting to think that something was wrong with him.

"I thought you'd never ask." I answered, smiling. "I was almost starting to think that you sprained a muscle or something."

He merely tilted his head. But he seemed more interested in my upcoming answer of his question. He kept waiting, and we looked at each other for a mere second. His eyes were burning me with demanding expectation. I smiled, and continued.

"You know how Scarecrows are?" I asked. "What their job is?"

"Yes," he answered. "They're supposed to scare the crows at the field." He stated, his voice rather confident, but his face remaining the same.

"That's the reason I pity them." I answered, smirking still. "If you don't get it, then think about it. You said it yourself," I gestured him with my hand, "They're _**supposed **_to. But they don't." I chuckled. "At first they do, but when the crows realize that he's a stuffed sack, he's at no use anymore." I tilted my head. "And they throw him away."

He just looked at me, dumbstruck. I guess he hadn't expected this answer from me. He was probably waiting for a childhood grudge, or a phobia or something. Like an old memory. But who did he think he was, _expecting _things for me?!

After a minute, he got up. Although his face was still emotionless, I could somehow sense uneasiness starting to spread. It looked like he was going to leave, but he looked at me another time, and then sat down again.

"So," he started, building up a sentence. "Let's talk about these **'phobias' **of yours." He looked at me, waiting for an answer.

I was surprised how he had jumped to a complete different topic just like that. He hadn't stayed long on the scarecrow topic, hadn't tried to dig in deeper. I had started to think that he had an issue with scarecrows or something when he called my name.

"Huh?" I answered, returning to the real world.

"Aren't you going to tell me your answer?" He asked. "About your phobias?"

I looked at him, raising my eyebrows. Did I have phobias? I had fears, that was right, but phobias?

"I don't suppose I have phobias." I replied, leaning on my right hand, looking at the ceiling and thinking hard. "I was afraid of the dark when I was 2…but now I'm really fond of it…And I have a fear of drowning, but it's a choice about death styles, you know?" I started to explain, without waiting for him to request from me to. "You know, if I were to die, my last choice would be to die by drowning." I tilted my head. "Think about it…Your last minutes, water filling your lungs… You struggle for a final inhale, but nothing's coming but water…You won't even have the time to enjoy your last seconds on Earth. Like you couldn't be able to find the time watch as your whole life crosses in front of your eyes because you're struggling with water."

His expression didn't show anything like Atelier's did. "Reasonable." Was all he said. It was impossible to make a guess. Oh, he was _good_.

Time passed, him asking questions, me answering, him taking down notes. I was starting to get irritated. Just the questions? No discussing at all? And she had thought well about this guy! He turned out to be pretty boring as the others.

Soon he was finished. He put down the pencil and looked at me. "Do you have any questions?" He asked suddenly. I was surprised. But I shouldn't have been, I probably had a wondering expression on and my eyes were probably gleaming with curiosity, like it always would be when I got bored.

"Yes, I do have one, actually." I said. He had learned everything about me, but there was only one thing I wondered about him.

"Ask it." He encouraged me, waiting for my question, preparing himself for scientific explanations or simple sentences.

Seeing him getting so bulked-up, I brought up the conversation earlier. "The scarecrows." I said, smiling. It wasn't a question at first, just a statement.

He raised an eyebrow. "What about them?" he asked, folding her hands on the table.

"Why were you so baffled when I said I pitied them?" I explained with a tempting voice, folding my hands as well but supporting my head with them. "What caught you _so __**off guard **_that it managed to crack your stone-cold expression?"

He didn't reply at first. Just looked at me. Probably trying to come up with a smart reply. I smirked. He was good, but I was _better_.

After mere seconds that seemed like hours, he answered. "It's the first time that I've heard that someone _pitied _the scarecrows." He tilted his head.

"Something like that shouldn't catch you off guard." I demanded. "Anyway, so you like scarecrows, I suppose."

"I don't have any problem with them." He said, a little too quickly.

"Alright then." I said. We stayed like that for at least a minute. "But having no problem with them doesn't change the fact that they're pitiful." I suddenly said.

Before he could reply—I wasn't even sure if he would reply, a guard barged in. "Dr. Crane, there's someone who wants to see you." He said, talking rapidly, and out of breath.

"Who?" Crane asked, getting up.

The guard seemed uncomfortable. He glanced at me, then Crane again. "Someone." He replied, not sure of what to say. He glanced back at me, and I returned his gaze with a devilish, cat-like smirk of my own, deeply staring into his eyes. The guard quickly moved his eyes away, looking at Crane again.

"Alright. Tell him I'll be there in a minute." He said suddenly, rushing to the table, stuffing his stuff into his briefcase.

I had discovered something about him. He had an issue with Scarecrows. And since it seemed like it was hard to find a soft spot on this creature, I decided to fully use it to my advantage.

* * *

**Everyone's POV (3****rd**** person)**

Lisbourne had started to mumble a familiar song while he packed. He did not stop to figure out which one. Only when he was at the door, he realized that the song was insanely familiar. He stopped, just for a minute, to make out what she was saying.

Seeing him standing by, Lisbourne volumed up her voice a little bit. _**"Sometimes, the jail can't chain the cell,**_

_**And the rain's too plain to tell,"**_

Crane frowned. He now remembered it.

"_**All alone by a barren well,**_

_**The Scarecrow's only scaring himself."**_

Crane shut the door quickly, and headed to his office with quick paces.

Lisbourne's smirk grew wider. She had gotten the effect she had wanted.

The guard looked at the door, eyebrows raised. Then the insane woman residing before his eyes. With complete bafflement, he gestured her to get up. "Come on, Miss Weyland, I need to take you to your cell." He hadn't understood a single thing.

"As you wish." Lisbourne got up, and let herself to be led by the fooled guard to her sweet, little cell.

* * *

_**A/N: Some of you may know the song. :D It's "Scarecrow" by Beck. Savour it, remember it, and love it with all your heart! Seriously, remember this song, ok?**_


	5. V Mio Fratello

_Here's another late chapter__ for you guys whom I love dearly! :D But my exams are nearly finished; there are just two more which are the most important exams of my life yet, and then, SUMMER BREAK!! HELL YEAH!!_

_Anyway, on to the disclaimer:_

**Disclaimer: **

**First of all, the line '****ability to cause crippling fear in fifty words or less' belongs to Bright Nova, **_not me__**.**_** So there's the chance that I might change it later.**

**And the usual:**

**Unfortunately, I do NOT own ANYTHING associated with Batman, but I DO own Lisbourne and her family, other supporting characters etc… But someday, I'm going to own Jonathan Crane to add to my closet collection… Ohyes, I will… You write that down…**

* * *

**Lisbourne's POV (1st person)**

_The city, silent. No one present in the alleys, in the streets. Probably late midnight. __Some screams from a building. Laughs of drunken men. Two bums cornering one girl. Sitting on the roof of a building, I now realize the wind brushing over my face. It's passing through me, blowing my hair. Oh, how good it feels to be free. Without chains, without straightjackets, without shrinks… The life I've always dreamed of. And I feel strong! I'm not sure if it's the strength of freedom, or self confidence, or something else, but oh my, I'm mightily strong…Suddenly, a faint voice softly muses in my ear, warns me to turn around. I listen to her, of course. Only to find someone behind me, slowly approaching. I wait as that someone closes the distance. That one finally arrives behind me, and I turn around just in time to catch its neck, lightly squeezing it, and then tightening my grip, slowly and painfully choking it. I hear several coughs, and I feel my prey squirm and struggle under my grip. I smirk widely, as the prey wheezes, hopelessly trying to pry my hands off its neck. Oh, how the wind brushes my face, how the breeze hits me in an instant…Oh, the wild, restless mind of a predator—_

I suddenly shut my eyes open, scowling for waking up. I looked around as if to make out my surrounding. No building, just the binding walls, decorated with sketches at my own will. The Gotham City far away, away from my reach. Sighing, I got out of my bed. The sun shone in my room. What was the time, anyway? Was it even dark when I slept? No, it wasn't—they had given me some pills right after they took me to this sweet, little cell, which I had taken gladly, and drifted into sleep. That's when that miraculous dream had found me. The dream where there were no bondage and I felt stronger than ever…

A nurse entered in the room with a tray on her hand, smiling timidly.

"Already awake, are we?" She sang while putting the tray on my lap. "I've brought lunch."

"What time is it?" I asked, still wondering.

"1 pm in the afternoon. Why?" The nurse, Valeria, as I remembered her name now, asked. She had been the only nurse to treat me kindly since my arrival. Either she _was _a good person, or that it was supposed to be a standard procedure for anyone who treated me.

"Just wondering." I stared at the _food _they brought me. Oh well, it was better than the other patients got, that I was sure of.

"By the way," Valeria said as she poured some water for me. "I think there's a visitor for you."

"Really?" I asked, surprised. "Who?"

"I don't know his name." She said. "But she was a handsome man with black hair and green eyes." She replied, winking, and smiling to herself, probably his image decorating her mind.

"Thanks." I said, sulking. Here he was; the grand master, the _he, _Matthew Adam Weyland. Hey, brother, welcome to my little Shop of Horrors.

"He is a fine lad, let me assure you." She said, shaking her head, her pixie cut short hair dangling besides her cheeks.

"He is my brother." I mused, tilting my head, smirking. "Don't you realize the family resemblance?" I fluttered my eyes, making them obvious.

She giggled, and then headed to the door. "Well, lucky you, anyway." Then she left me to my selves.

"Thanks." I mumbled. "Lucky indeed." Snorting, I turned to my _breakfast_, hiding the pills that resided besides the cup.

* * *

**Crane's POV (3****rd**** person)**

Crane walked out in the hall, and exited the building. At the entrance, a tall, broad figure was standing near a limo. He walked over here a little closer to see who it was. Just as expected; Matthew Weyland. He examined the figure. He was wearing the same kind of suit as him, and holding it just like Crane did, only better and more charismatic. He had a great resemblance to Lisbourne, they had the same eyes. But unlike Lisbourne's, his eyes weren't filled with insanity, but yet something else…

"Mr. Weyland?" He asked, walking to him. "I'm Jonathan Crane."

"Nice to meet you." Weyland answered, extending his hand, which Crane shook.

"May I ask you the reason you're here?" He asked, retrieving his hand.

"I actually wanted to check on my sister." Weyland replied, straightening his tie. "And visit Jeremiah Arkham in the meanwhile."

"Oh, I see." Crane said, nodding. "Actually, it's prohibited for the patients to see visitors, but in your case, I may be able to make an exception…" He explained. "If you could wait here a minute…" He led Weyland to the garden, and then headed inside to retrieve Lisbourne. With two guards following him, he arrived at the door. Knocking it two times, he barged in without a reply.

Lisbourne was staring at the door, sitting on the bed. She hadn't touched most of her food, just the _thing _that was served as dessert. She tilted her head.

"What's up?"

"Your brother's here." He replied.

"Yeah, I know that my _brother_ is here." She complained, uncomfortable. "What's the deal with me? Why should I care?" She explained further, letting herself fall on the bed.

"He's here to visit you, Lisbourne." By her actions, Crane could get that this wasn't some sort of tradition. He suddenly wondered about the relationship between the two.

Lisbourne's jaw dropped slightly. Her eyes were surprised, her face an unreadable expression. She slowly got up on her two feet, awestruck.

"Well, that's something new and completely off the routine." With that, she walked out of the door, past the guardians, like a ghost, her face paler than usual and her expression dead.

Crane smiled secretly at the change of her attitude. He could use his ability to cause crippling fear in fifty words or less and she wouldn't even flinch, but a slight mention of her brother's arrival actually _**caused **_crippling fear.

Crane exited the room, confident, and headed to his office after watching the guards lead the girl to her brother. He wanted to give them their privacy. Privacy always had the patients acting more like themselves.

There were hidden cameras everywhere around the place. He'd watch their reactions later. From those hidden cameras of his. Right now, he had to inform Mr. Arkham about Weyland's arrival.


	6. Bloopers I

Since I haven't written something for a long time, and posted an uber-short chapter, I feel guilty

_Since I haven't written something for a long time, and posted an uber-short chapter, I feel guilty. ____ So, I'm bringing you this -Behind the Scenes- chapter! This is supposed to explain how I write my stories; but changed into actors' perspectives for your own sanity. _

_I was actually going to do the 'Lisbourne Talks to Her __**Selves**__' script, but it needs more thinking put in it. Don't worry, it'll come. ___

**Uhh…disclaimer****? : I own NOTHING of DC, but my own characters, the script, and other disturbing things including the cameraman and such… You know, the ones from my **_**closet collection…**_

_Story…Kukuku…_

* * *

'**And This, And This, And This, And It Means Nothing'**

**Original Story: **Sphynxia

**Screenplay: **Sphynxia

**Starring:**

Christine Lisbourne Victoria Weyland

Jonathan Crane

Matthew Adam Weyland

Valeria Seafront

Aiden Atelier

(Yet to be seen:)

Bruce Wayne

Rachel Dawes

Hiroshi Yutani

* * *

**Chapter**** One: Dr. Atelier**

**I: ****Atelier's Entrance:**

**Take One:**

_Lisbourne sits on the floor, drawing. Atelier enters in, looks around. Lisbourne turns around and stares at him. They stare at each other for some time. _

Atelier: -whispers- Lisbourne, say your line.

Lisbourne: Wha?

A: Your liiinneeee….

L: Is the narrator's voice finished?

A: -sighs- Yes…

L: OH! Did I miss—DAMMIT I MISSED IT! slams head on floor

-Cut-

**Take Two:**

_Lisbourne sits on the floor, drawing. Atelier enters in, looks around. Lisbourne turns around and stares at him._

L: Hello, Dr. Atelier.

A: Hi, Christine.

L: Dr. Atelier, how many times I have to remind you that the name I use is Lis… Lism… Lisa… What was the freaking name… oh, LISBOURNE!

-Cut-

**Take Ten:**

_Lisbourne sits on the floor, drawing. Atelier enters in, looks around. Lisbourne turns around and stares at him._

L: Hello, Dr. Atelier.

A: Hi, Christine.

L: Dr. Atelier, how many times I have to remind you that the name I use is Lisbourne?

A: But just yesterday you were Christine…

…Wait, we did it. WE DID IT! jumps in the air, hugs Lisbourne

-Cheering sounds in the background-

**II: Lisbourne Explains**

**Take One:**

A: "And another thing, why a Scarecrow?"

L: -smirks- "Why? Just because."

_A minute of two passes__._

L: Alright, then. Since you're not going to leave me alone in peace, I might as well tell you why. "I've always pitied the scarecrows, you see. They make me laugh. You know, they place a scarecrow in the middle of the field, to scare away the crows. And it works, but for a few days. Soon the crows realize that something's wrong, _'a human has to move, right? Why isn't this one moving?'_ Then they take turns, slowly flying over the scarecrow, and finally settle on him. They realize it's a mere stuffed sack. They bomb-dive it, rip it; even sometimes build nests on it…

_Lisbourne forgets line. Nothing happens. No one screams 'CUT!'._

L: …Whew! Can you imagine the smell they'll make? Oh gosh, no one would get a hundred feet near that scarecrow again!

-CUUUUTTTT!!-

**Take Five:**

Director: Let's do this…I know we can…

Sphynxia: -just watches with enthusiasm, sitting on a chair with her name at the back, wearing pajamas and a kimono, eating popcorn-

L: -explains-

A: -chuckles- You have a different perspective over anything. I'm going to miss your unique qualities.

L: Miss? Where are you going? ...Wait, that didn't come out right.

A: -offended- It _certainly _didn't…

D: -covers face with hand-

S: -still the same-

-…Cut…-

* * *

**Chapter Two: The Arkham**

**I: Crane's Entrance**

**Take One:**

_Crane enters the room. Lisbourne is on the table, drawing, mumbling._

L: _…and then I was like, Oh, god, and she was like, no way, and he was like, It's not like what it seems, and then—_

D: Cut… CUT, for god's sake!

L: What happened? …What else was I supposed to say?

Crane: -still at the door, baffled-

-afraid- C-cut…-

**Take Three:**

_-Same scene-_

L: -mumbles-

C: -walks in, crashes into the camera-

L: -still mumbling, concentrated on her drawing- _…How much is that dog in the window...The one with the waggly tail?…_

C: Ow-ow-ow-ow, my LEG!

Cameraman: -on the floor, awestruck-

L: -still singing-

S: -joins her-

_Two men run to check the camera's status._

C: I need medics here!

L: -snaps out of it- Oh, you're over-exaggerating it!

Medic I and II: -arrives-

Medic I: No, actually, he's hurt pretty bad.

M II: That's gonna be sore in the morning…

S: _still _singing _I wonder if he is for saaleeee??_

Cm (cameraman): -holds his eye- I think I've got a black eye…

L: Lemme look-ow, that will leave a mark…

Cm: Really?!

L: Just move your hand a little aside for me to see! touches the eye Does it hurt?

Cm: OW! YES! It does…

D: -slashing wrists-

S: -looks at the Director- Ok, ok, no need to be over reactive…

-Ok, I get the cue…Cut…-

_**-TO BE CONTINUED-**_


	7. VI Osore

Another chapter

_Another chapter! Ye__y!_

**Disclaimer: Do I even have to explain it anymore? I do not own anything of Batman and DC Comics, alas; every other thing belongs into my closet collection… Well, except for the occasional songs and quotations…**

_RANDOMNESS: Very few care about our dear Crane-y Crane. Most care about the h__ot-shot spoilt Bruce Wayne/Batman. The hotshot in short-shorts._

_Say 'NO' to Scarecrow abuse! :D_

_Story, me 'earties!_

* * *

**POV of my Backside/No one's POV (3****rd**** person)**

Lisbourne was still like a ghost when they arrived at the garden.

Suddenly, everything had hit her like a rock; her arrival at the Arkham Asylum, her brother's unexpected visit, and the fact that the visit brought; she had missed him.

No matter how much she hated him, despised him, and blamed him about almost everything happening to her; _she missed him._

And with the realization of this fact, she wasn't Lisbourne anymore.

Matthew Weyland got up from the bench he was sitting on when she saw the three shadows approaching. He spotted his sister first; still lovely, with her lime green eyes unchanged, and her silky brown hair kept long. Still beautiful, with sun shining on her pale white skin. Still graceful, always maintaining her proud and strong walking pace.

Yet, she was completely different, like something had been ripped away from her. She wasn't laughing, or even smirking for that matter. But of course she wouldn't; he remembered the last time they had encountered. Three guards were hardly and forcefully dragging her back into her cell while she was yelling curses at him and threatening to kill him.

But even the heat of hatred was gone.

Matthew cursed to himself for not visiting earlier. He should've checked sooner, he should've found some problem. Had he put the situation on jeopardize? A larva of worry and pain started eating his insides out; blaming himself for ignorance, oblivious to the fact that his arrival was the real cause of her change.

Finally, they faced each other. Matthew Adam Weyland; successful businessman carrying on his father's work, and Christine Lisbourne Victoria Weyland; his once-promising sister with multiple personalities.

"Heys." Matthew said, unable to form anything more intelligent.

"Heys." She replied, somewhat awestruck.

The guards looked at Matthew, questioning him about their stay. He nodded them off, sending them away.

As soon as the guards left, Lisbourne did the most unexpected thing.

She threw herself at his arms.

"Whoa." Matthew breathed out, surprised, catching her. Well, this was way different from their last encounter.

Lisbourne breathed in her brother's cologne, burying her face to his chest. His brother, still the same, still handsome, still as she remembered. Even he kept his cologne the same. Her favorite.

Matthew didn't have to wait long to understand that she was quietly sobbing.

"Whoa, whoa, what's gone into you?" He asked, gently stroking the top of her head. This time he was really baffled. His sister, crying?

"Just missed you." She buried her face deeper into his chest. Her grip on him tightened, like she was afraid of losing him.

"Did something happen?" He asked, worried.

"No." She raised her face to meet up with his. "You haven't visited me for a long time."

"I know." He said, leading her to the closest bench. "But I figured, since the last time I did, you wouldn't want me to."

Her sobbing stopped. She laughed bitterly at the memory. "You're right." She sat on the bench. "But they don't matter anymore, now do they?" She smiled as her brother sat near her. She rested her head at his shoulder.

"Well, I've got good news for you." Matthew suddenly said, smiling.

"Yeah? Do tell." She looked at him with pure curiosity.

"Remember Bruce Wayne? The boy that lived next door when we were young?" He asked.

"Bruce Wayne of Wayne Enterprises, yes, I remember." She said. "What about him?" She tilted her head.

"We've signed a contract with them, about improving the Weyland/Yutani Chemicals." Matthew said, sneaking his hand ho her shoulder.

"Really?" She asked, nodding. "Was that the place called Ace Chemicals Processing Inc. before we bought it?"

"Yes, it is." He kept the silence for a minute. When she said nothing, he almost let out a sigh. He was glad that she didn't recall any memories about that place. Their last quarrel was about the factory, after all.

"Good thing we did," She mumbled as she closed her eyes. "A contract with Wayne Enterprises really ties us with Gotham."

So she hadn't lost her talent over business world yet. He smiled, approving.

"Yes, yes it is."

After half an hour of silence, Matthew got up to leave. Lisbourne followed his movement. The two guards returned to retrieve her.

"You'll come, right?"

"I have a business trip with Bruce Wayne, but after that, if you want me to."

"I do."

"Bye."

He hugged her one last time, and made his way to the exit.

She, as well, moved, but at the opposite direction, at her zoo cage.

* * *

The door of the room opened to reveal a neutral looking Jonathan Crane behind it.

"I don't understand." He said as she made his way to the only figure in the room, sitting on the closest furniture he found.

"Why not tell? Why not let him know?"

"You think that I'm in control of it?"

"You seemed in control of the others." He pointed out, a drop of amusement in his voice.

"Well, this is different." A frustrated sigh echoed in the room.

"…_You fear_."

A minute of silence.

Crane got up. He walked to the door. He opened it, and stepped a foot outside.

"Just remember. He knows. You hate him. And you know why. _Then why do you fear, Lisbourne_?"

And he left.


	8. VII Precious Red Rubies

_Ohhhh—kayyyyyyy… Another new chapter! Sorry that you had to wait this long, and I hope that you are still waiting for this story to go on. Anyway, as I leave you with what I hope is a long chapter, I again present my apologies, and hope for your approval. Have fun, me' midgets!_

**Disclaimer (which I don't believe that I really need to write anymore): Yada yada, what so-ever, anything of Batman and the surname Weyland doesn't belong to me, but in fact, real producers—wow, what a surprise! ******** But all of the others are miiieeennnn, got it? And if you try to steal, I have one word for you:**

**Gothehellaway!!**

**And if you believe that that one word is actually three, I say:**

**Letitgo!**

_Ok, only the fans of the show 'Reba' will understand the joke, but I don't care. I'm bored and there's nothing else to do._

* * *

**Lisbourne's P.O.V. (1****st**** person)**

_I lift my head to the sky. See the ten thousand flickering stars. And the moon. The gloating, fat moon. The moon of a hunter. The moon of a predator. __La luna del Cacciatore__. I chuckle, and the others chuckle inside me. Dark, warming chuckles. As warmness trickles down my spine, I turn around. Wind hits my face. My clothing should feel heavy on me, but it doesn't. I raise my hand, look at the metal protector covering half of my arm. It glistens. It drips precious, red rubies. Red rubies? I look down at realization. Down to my kill. A wide smirk spreads on my face, and I chuckle again. A sound cuts through my chuckle. I stop, and look around, one eyebrow raised. I extend my claws from that hand protector of mine, also covered with red spatters, and then—_

I wake up? I looked around. Valeria was standing beside me.

"Good morning, sunshine!" She chirped. "Time for your pills."

"Pills? What pills?" Had Crane assigned me something new in the past few days? Besides, where was the kill, where were the blood spatters, where was the singing moon?

"The usual treatment pills!"Valeria answered, surprised. "Gee, Lisbourne, honey, are you ok?"

_I'm not Lisbourne today, honey, I'm something much more dangerous,_ I wanted to say, but instead, I answered. "Of course, why wouldn't I be?"

"Oh, you look a little tired, and in agony, that's all." She mused.

If she meant 'in agony' by realizing the kill was just a dream, yes, I was in just what she had said. "Oh, I see." I really did.

She smiled hugely. "Good, then. I've also brought you breakfast." She pointed at the thing that was supposed to be food.

I made a face.

"Don't worry, they actually taste good." She said, seeing my face. "I stole them from one of the doctors' tray, just for you." She winked.

"Wow, thanks." I said, smiling. I really had grown fond of her. She was the kind of person that stole food for homicidal psychopaths and pronounced the word 'agony' the same way a five year old said 'chocolate'.

"No problem." She stood up to leave. "Behave, now." She said. "And make sure to take your pills." She gestured the oh-so-hidden camera at the ceiling.

"All right." I answered, which, for no reason, came out like 'all reight'.

"Bye." And she left.

My face fell down to a frown. It had taken my good spirits away to learn that my dream had actually turned out to be a dream. I wasn't happy, and so weren't the others. Only one seemed to be radiantly happy about it.

"Oh, shut up." I scoffed at the Catholic, satanophobic little girl inside my head.

I got up from the bed, and made my way to the bathroom. I looked at the mirror and wiped my hair off my face with my right hand.

That was when I realized the blood spatters on my hand, and as a result of my action a second ago, now smeared on my face as well. The blood spatters on my hand took me to my dream, the spatters patterned just like the spatters on my hand protector in my dream.

* * *

**Valeria's P.O.V. (1****st**** person)**

I was just down the hall when I heard a scream.

I ran back to the hall, and to the last door to the left; the room where, I assumed, the scream came from. It wasn't a loud scream, just a sound of bafflement, really, but that was only another proof that I had incredible sense of hearing. And also another proof of why I was the First Nurse in the asylum.

I opened the door, and couldn't find Lisbourne.

The light of the tiny bathroom was open, so I went there. There Lisbourne was, standing in front of the mirror, looking at her reflection with disbelief. And there was blood on her face. As well as her hand.

"Oh my!" I exclaimed. I ran near her side. "What the hell happened to you?"

"I'm not sure." She answered, her eyes still wide, but except for that, her face was surprisingly calm. "Well, I do have an idea, but—"

"We have to get you cleaned up." I interrupted her, and closed the door to the bathroom with a quick gesture. "Was any of this blood on the bed?"

"Not that I know of—"

"Good." I opened the water of the sink, and pulled her right hand in. I washed the blood off her hand rather deliriously, and for a moment it was hard to decide which one of us were crazy and which one was not.

"Gee, what's the hurry?" Lisbourne teased. "It's not like there's a killer after us."

"But we are, indeed, in danger." I answered, now cleaning her face with a wet towel. "The camera must have seen the blood."

After my work was done, I told her to stay put, and went in the cell. I lifted up the cover. There it was, just a little spatter of blood. But I had checked Lisbourne's hand—or every inch of her, more accurately—for a wound of some sort, but I could find none. The spatter was right at the place where Lisbourne's hand should had been; not head, not stomach, not the spine. An impossible idea popped in my head, impossible, but an idea nonetheless. The idea that the blood didn't belong to her at all.

I looked at the camera. It was a quite new one, with all of the little jibbery-things that the professional cameramen had dealt with and the sellers bragged on and on about if you went to buy one. It had high quality, and could make out every single detail in everything, that, I was sure of. I had learned it in my rookie days in this asylum, when Crane (he was then and still now the head of the doctors) had caught me making out with another staff in the supply closet, and had recognized me by my small name tag when he was checking the cameras if one of the patients tried something stupid and dangerous. Of course it was true, it was my second week at the asylum, and he hadn't even seen me.

So I returned to the bathroom, closed the door behind me, and looked at Lisbourne with a serious manner on my face. "Tell me about this dream." I said.

And she did.

I waited for her to finish. I had guessed. And now, I'd have no explanation for it when Crane asked. Under my nurses' skirt, I took out a pocket knife, which was tied to my right upper leg.

Lisbourne raised an eyebrow. "What a lovely agent we are." She mocked.

I giggled, but then regained my seriousness. I looked at her. "The thing I will do now will hurt." I said. I got no response. "Do you know why, Lisbourne?" I asked, after a second. "Why I have to do this?"

She nodded. "Because the camera saw."

"Uh-huh." I answered.

"And _he'll_ want an explanation."

"Yes." So I got to work.

* * *

**Lisbourne's P.O.V. (3****rd**** person)**

And she was right. It DID hurt.

When Valeria was finished, Lisbourne looked at her hand. There were four scratches, quite deep scratches, shaped like nail wounds. Although her hand hurt, she smiled for three reasons.

One. She remembered that she had waken one time, in the middle of yesterday's night, and found herself clenching her fists. Now this would seem reasonable.

Two. It was clear that Valeria had dealt with things like this before, and maybe a lot worse. It would be fun to learn all of that from Valeria. Listen to the girl like she was a five year old and Valeria was her grandma. Maybe it would even help her pass the time.

Three. She wasn't Lisbourne at all.

She hadn't been Lisbourne for almost 32 hours. When her brother had arrived—it had only been yesterday, and it felt like a thousand years ago—, she had been an entirely new one which she had met with when she was five. Someone called Amelia. Amelia was quite an emotional soul, she wept over the death of a bug, and she would scream yells of joy in her head when a butterfly came out of its cone.

And now, triggered by her lovely dream, she had been another one; someone that Lisbourne had kept locked for almost two years.

Stephanie. The soul of a bloody murderer.

Quite homicidal, she was, really. Her thoughts were quite frightening, but other than that, she was a fun companion. When she didn't hunger for chaos, she liked to make funny jokes, and other than wrath, lust was also a sin that she was guilty as charged. So, other than counting the fact that she wanted to cause people screaming bloody murder—and how 'screaming bloody murder' fit the personage—, she was a fine lad. She cared for children and had a special place in her heart as well, but for the adults… Well, let's say that she found children's existence more important than adults. Of course, there was nothing she could do about it. But if SHE was the actual landlady of this land called Lisbourneland… Oh, what wonders she would've created.

"If anyone asks, you just say that you clenched your fist too tight in your sleep." Valeria suddenly cut her thoughts. "If Crane asks, you can give all of the details of how you cut your hand like you want." She giggled, which Lisbourne/Stephanie had decided to call a 'Vallie Giggle'. "But you keep the truth to yourself."

"I know." Lisbourne/Stephanie answered, shaking her head. "Maybe I'll even show him how to create such a realistic nail mark." She tilted her head to the side. "Don't worry, I'll warn him. It hurts."

"But at least you didn't make a sound." Valeria said. "You actually seemed kind of cool with it. What did they do to you before, did scientific tests on you?"

A lightning bolt struck in Stephanie's head. But she merely answered, laughing. "Just like you did now, eh?"

"It was just a wee bit of scratching called 'cover up'." Valeria answered, and joined my laughing. "Come on, I need to change the bed. While doing that, let's create a scene for the screen, ne?"

So they got out, Lisbourne holding her hand, and Valeria leading her to the chair. She got out of the room, and returned with a white roll in her hand. She opened it, and it turned out to be a bandage. She tied it around Lisbourne's hand, and started changing the bed.

* * *

**Crane's P.O.V. (3****rd**** person)**

Crane knocked the door to Lisbourne's room. The First Nurse of the asylum opened it to his surprise. He raised his eyebrow, and she let him in.

He was surprised to see her here, especially in Lisbourne's room. He couldn't say that he wasn't pleased to see her, although she meant nothing to him, he was a man, and she was a rather appealing woman. Her pixie-cut hair was always grown from their bangs, and she acted like a vixen in her nurses' uniform. He wasn't a pig like any other man in the world, (or he wasn't anything like the other male doctors in this asylum, to be more accurate), and he was actually counted as a gentleman in the world's eyes. But a man needed his sight every now and then. Besides, he had important thing to tell to the First Nurse, give her orders, and advise her to straighten up the staff or lose her job. It was going to be an important day for all of the Arkham Asylum, and also a stressing day as well.

For yesterday, when Matthew Weyland had had a chat with dear old Jeremiah Arkham, he had informed him that he, his partner Hiroshi Yutani, and their new business associate Bruce Wayne were going to come to the asylum the three days later. He had said that Bruce Wayne and his current girlfriend had a real interest for this asylum, whatever reason that may be.

"Hello, Doctor Crane." Valeria said in her usual vixen manner, putting her hands on her hips in a competitive manner. "What a joy to see you here today."

"With my best intentions." Crane answered, waving his head in a manner that said thank you, but also a dismissive manner. Before he would talk with her, he needed to have the usual chat with Lisbourne. Maybe discover her actions the other day.

"Hey, Doc." Lisbourne called, waving a wrapped hand. "How's life goin'?"

"What happened to your hand?" Crane asked suddenly. It had sounded a little protective in his ears, but appereantly for the First Nurse, it wasn't so.

"Whatever happened isn't your busi—"

"I probably clenched my fist too tight in the night." Lisbourne answered with a wide smile. "Was having a nightmare. You know, the stupid ones like when nine feet long scissors come after you to cut your hair."

Valeria glared at Lisbourne, for cutting her sentence. Then she glared at Crane, for no apparent reason.

_Well,_ Crane thought. _It's a better idea to talk with the nurse and get it over with_.

"My dear First Nurse, may I have a word with you?" He asked. "Outside?"

"Fine." She answered, and got out.

"Have fun." Lisbourne kept her smile. She waved her hand again.

Crane got out as well.

* * *

**No One's P.O.V.**

"What do you want?" The vixen sneered as Crane closed the door behind him.

"I want to inform you," He thought for a second, "No, order you to get your staff straight and decent for tomorrow. The CEO's of Weyland/Yutani, Bruce Wayne of Wayne Industries and his girlfriend will be arriving tomorrow, for God knows what. But in that time, I want your staff prepared and disciplined. As quickly as you can."

"You can't order anything to me." The First Nurse answered in rage. "It takes a lot more than having the advantage of threatening me with the possible loss of my job to make me take orders from someone like you."

"Consider your advice taken." With a dismissive manner, and with the last scoff of the vixen now behind her tickling his ears, he opened the door again. "Well, Hello again, Lisbourne."

"I hope you people will stop calling me that." Came the reply. "And realize when I actually am."


	9. Bloopers II

_Ok. Another chapter of bloopers for you guys! But this one is dedicated to __**Twisted Midnight Dreams**__, because she was the one who suggested a thing like this a long time ago. I won't tell what she requested, you'll see it in a minute, won't you?_

_Ps- I had started writing this chapter in a train station, so I feel like a different version of J.K. Rowling now. :D_

**Disclaimer: This time I'll start with saying what I own; I own Lisbourne and Matthew Weyland, all of Lisbourne's other personalities, Valeria Seaforth, Hiroshi Yutani, and this story. No, I don't own Simone Harris, she belongs to a very dear friend of mine. Maybe I'll convince that friend of mine to register to . Anyway, Scarecrow/Jonathan Crane, Batman, and the Weyland/Yutani Corp. and all of the other things you know belong to their rightful owners.**

_On with the story, me' midgets! (And no, you won't learn who Simone Harris is until the time comes)_

* * *

'**And This, And This, And This, And It Means Nothing'**

**Original Story: **Sphynxia

**Screenplay: **Sphynxia

**Starring:**

Christine Lisbourne Victoria Weyland

Jonathan Crane

Matthew Adam Weyland

Valeria Seafront

Aiden Atelier

(Yet to be seen:)

Bruce Wayne

Rachel Dawes

Hiroshi Yutani

Simone Harris

* * *

**-At the end of VII Precious Red Rubies-**

Director: Good job, people! After the thirteenth take, we finally finished it!

Sphynxia: I know! –giggle- Wasn't it awesome, though?

D: Actually, they acted really good…

CameraMan1: I think they deserve a break before the other chapter..

D: And why should they!?

CM1: Because I need one! Gee, the camera may be a machine, but I'm not!

D: Oh, I understand. –turns to the cast and the crew- Ok, people! You got yourselves a break! Return in one hour.

-People cheer. Everyone but the Director and Sphynxia leaves.-

S: -After a moment of silence- You know that they won't come in one hour, right?

D: -sobbing silently- I know, I know…

—Scene changes to Lisbourne's room—

Lisbourne: -Oh, you understand now! Was it that hard?

-Crane comes in front of the door, but hears Lisbourne speaking, so eavesdrops-

L: -But Stephanie, why are we even doing this?

-Because Lisbourne said so.

-Gee, _mon Cherie, _since when are you taking orders from _aniwone_?

C: -thinking- _Aniwone?_

L: -Since Lisbourne locked me up in her mind for years, that's when! Now shut your trap and do this!

-Hmm… Where's Amelia?

-Rosalie, darling, we should _never _ask about Amelia.

-But Christine, she's the only one aside from Lisbourne who knows the code!

-But _we _do.

C: -raises an eyebrow-

L: -You do?

-Yes, we do. We learned it from Amelia last year.

-_Oh, mon dieu! _Stop your babbling and write zee damn code!

-Ok, Victoria, you shouldn't get angry.

-Yes, Vic, we should learn to control our temper.

-Shuddup, Christine!

-Why is Lisbourne making us do this?

-Because, Rosalie, bank accounts are the easiest way to annoy us.

-'Us' as 'you', or 'us' as 'we'?

-We. Gee, why can't you people understand our sentences?!

C: -shocked-

L: -Maybe because they never make sense?

-Shut your _bouche_, Stephanie! And it _EEZ _a good way to bore us to death.

-It's DONE!

C: -finally decides to enter- What's done?

L: Oh, you were HERE? W-when did you arrive!?

C: -sweatdrops- Uh… Just now… What's done? By the way, are you ok? You sounded like you were… Uhm… talking to someone.

L: I'm ok! Ah…I-I w-was? Well, I was just p-practising for my, uh, role, you know? –whispers- _'Were we doing that?' 'Shut up!' Ahem_ Trying to get in-character, you understand?

C: Uh…I think…

L: -her attitude suddenly changes- I was just trying to become as good as you in my role, that's all. –comes closer to Crane, straightens his tie and tidies his hair, rather seductively-

C: -gulps, and gets even more confused- Oh, I-I…uh…What?

L: Because, you know, I _adore_ your acting sooooo much…

C: Ahm… I-I see—

(Director's voice: Where the hell are all of you so-called actors!? Your time is over, for God's sake!)

L: Oh, we have to go. Tell you what, why don't you go, and I'll see you in a moment in the takes of the new chapter? –replaces his glasses to the place they're supposed to be and brushes off the dust from his shoulder while saying all these-

C: Ok… -leaves, dumbstruck-

L: after a second -angry- —Bravo, Victoria, you scared the poor thing!

-But he forgot about the talking, no?

-What if he tells someone?

-Be reasonable, Rosalie. Is he going to tell anyone that _the _Lisbourne Weyland hit on him?

-Good point, Steph.

-Oh, Lisbourne!

-Are you done with my bank account? –looks at her computer-

-Oh, yes! Just finished!

-Good. Then move your tush! We have to go to the takes.

-All right…

-She doesn't even thank—

-Shut up!

—_**To be continued—**_


End file.
